Teamwork
by BarbaraLee
Summary: "The strength of the team is each individual member. The strength of each member is the team." The new ER nurse roused Johnny's interest, and Brackett's ire. Both must redefine what it is to be part of a team. When a routine run takes a tragic turn can the entire team come together to save the squad?
1. Prologue

**PROLOGUE**

**Scene One**

"I'm telling you, Roy, there's something wrong with that girl!"

"You like her."

"Like her? Man, she's … off."

"Awful pretty," Roy quipped.

"She's beautiful," the word play was lost on a preoccupied Johnny, "but pretty isn't everything." He was on automatic pilot as he loaded the fresh supplies and replenished drug box into their compartments. "You have to be able to talk to a girl. She wouldn't talk to me. Not one word. Even if she told me to get lost – What kind of woman doesn't talk … _at all_? But that smile … Strange girl."

Corrie Lester was the newest addition to the Rampart ER. She was an auburn haired beauty with a full mouth and big brown eyes and had caught young Gage's attention immediately. While Roy set about getting the supplies they needed, Johnny had turned his attention to the pretty, young nurse seated at the nurse's station. She had smiled at him, holding his eyes with hers and he was smitten. He'd poured on the charm and asked her to dinner. She never said a word, her smile never wavered and her eyes had never left his.

"Seems to me a girl that doesn't talk would be the perfect date for you," Roy teased as they boarded the squad.

"Very funny," Johnny scoffed. "Do we even have a date," he wondered aloud. "She never answered."

"Sure you do. She didn't say 'no.'"

"She didn't say 'yes.'"

"Sure she did, the way she was smiling at you."

"Yeah, she was smiling all right," Johnny mused as a smile of his own lit his face.

Roy started the engine and slipped it into gear. "Yeah," he said with a grin, more to himself than to Johnny, "you like her."

**Scene Two**

Back at the nurse's station Corrie stared down the corridor after them.

"You like him," said a husky voice behind her.

"The paramedic?" The smile reappeared. "Like him! That chauvinist?"

"Yes."

"He's so full of himself."

"Yes."

After a moment's thought, "He is cute."

"Yes," said Dixie triumphantly, as though she had elicited the correct answer to a difficult question.

"No. Not interested."

"Corrie," Dixie took the younger woman's hands in her own. "Loo," she continued softly, "Frank is gone."

Corrie's shoulders slumped as she looked up at Dixie with sad eyes. "It's not about Frank," she protested weakly.

"Have some fun. You're young; it's time you start enjoying life again."

"And you think I'll enjoy your paramedic friend," it was not a question.

"John Gage is – "

"Gage? That was Johnny Gage?"

"So you've heard the stories. Some of them are even true," Dixie grasped Corrie's shoulders and looked directly into her eyes, "but you didn't stop smiling the whole time he was here. You haven't smiled that much since you've been home."

Corrie thought about her interaction with Johnny, his bragging, his flirting, his eyes. She felt the smile return.

"Accept the date," Dixie pressed. "Maybe nothing will come of it, but if he can get you smiling like that, even for just one evening, it'll be worth it."

"He really is cute," Corrie conceded. At that moment Dr. Early poked his head out of treatment room two and called for a nurse.

Corrie rushed off in response. The door to room two was already closing when Dixie added quietly, "Yeah, you like him."


	2. Act I

**ACT I**

**Scene One**

The next day was shaping up to be a long one for Squad 51. Following more than a week of heavy rains it was the second consecutive day the temperature broached triple digits. Some people were eager to be out in the sunshine, others just to be out. Either way, it meant crowds. Separately crowds and heat meant trouble, together they often spelled disaster. So far they'd seen a lot of trouble with no end in sight.

Johnny's stomach rumbled audibly. "Man, I am starving," he muttered.

"Yeah," Roy agreed, his own stomach growling, "now that you mention it." The first call had come immediately upon the start of shift, they'd just made it back to the station following the third. They were on their seventh run of the day and it was barely past noon.

"Please hurry," cried the lady who'd come running from the house when they'd pulled up. "My husband's having a heart attack!"

"Don't worry, Ma'am, we'll take good care of him," Johnny assured her as he and Roy grabbed their gear and hurried after her.

Inside they found a heavy-set, white-haired man in an easy chair, his elbows on his knees, head in his hands.

"Sir," asked Roy, "what's your name?" No response. "Sir," he asked again.

"Moe," the reply finally came. "Moe Salt."

"Mr. Salt, can you sit back for me, please." While Johnny helped their patient ease back into his chair, Roy made contact with Rampart.

"Rampart, we have a male approximately 65 years –"

"Oh, honey," said his wife from behind Roy, "he's 73."

"Yes, ma'am," Roy smiled. "Correction, Rampart, 73 years old, complaining of chest pain. Stand by for vitals."

"Standing by, 51," came the voice of Dr. Brackett.

Johnny collected the data and Roy relayed it.

"Bp is 154/96, pulse is 110, respirations 30 and shallow, pupils are equal and reactive, patient is diaphoretic."

"10-4 51. Can you send me a strip?"

"Stand by, Rampart."

"Standing by."

"Hey, Roy," when Johnny opened Moe's shirt to affix the leads he noticed, "his abdomen's distended."

While Roy relayed the additional information Johnny reached across their patient to place the final lead. Suddenly Mr. Salt bolted upright, his mouth dropped open and he belched, long and loud and clear. It was the odor that knocked Johnny off his feet.

When it was finally over Mr. Salt laid back comfortably. He took a few deep breaths and relaxed deeper into his chair. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face, then grinned sheepishly. "There it is," he announced.

"Where's that strip, 51," Brackett demanded.

"Stand by, Rampart," Roy repeated.

"There what is, Mr. Salt," Johnny was once again kneeling beside him, struggling to maintain his composure in the lingering stench.

Moe Salt thought for a moment. "I think it's the liver and onions."

"Liver and onions," Johnny repeated with a pained look to Roy.

"Maybe it's the sausage and peppers," Mrs. Salt piped up.

Her husband was smacking his lips. "Could also be the corn beef and sauerkraut."

"Sausage and sauerkraut," mumbled Johnny. He rechecked the vital signs. "Bp is 140/90, pulse is 90, respirations 18, normal abdomen and diaphoresis appears to have abated."

"Rampart, update on vitals," Roy relayed the data precisely as Johnny had given it to him.

"What happened, 51?"

"Patient burped, Rampart."

The amusement in the voice on the biophone was clear when Brackett asked, "Say again, 51?"

"He burped," Roy reported, trying and failing to stifle a laugh. Behind him Mrs. Salt giggled, then Mr. Salt added his rich, hearty laugh. It was another minute before Johnny grudgingly joined in.

After a final check showed all his vitals well within normal limits they left the Salts, still laughing, with instructions to see his family doctor and lighten up on the lunches.

**Scene Two**

It was only a ten minute ride back to the station; Johnny spent the whole ten minutes grousing. "You weren't right next to him, you have no idea," he was saying as Roy backed the squad into the station. "How am I supposed to eat lunch after that? I may never eat again."

"You do what you want, Junior, I'm hungry."

The smells that hit them as they exited the vehicle stopped the retort on Johnny's lips. Instead he asked, "Who's cooking today?" Roy shrugged as Johnny quickened his pace. "Talk about a cure for what ails you," he was looking back toward his partner as he barreled into the kitchen –

– and suddenly he was looking down at Corrie Lester. She sat on the floor before him, her legs splayed out in front of her, the front of her once blue blouse now wet and brown from the iced tea that had been in the now empty glass still in her hand.

"Damn it," he heard her mutter.

"I'm sorry," Johnny offered his hand, "I should have been watching where I was going."

"Yeah, you should," she retorted. She pushed his hand away. "I can do it myself!" But she couldn't. Her right leg was giving her trouble. He pushed aside the guilt that flashed at having caused an injury and knelt beside her.

"You're hurt, let me help."

"You helped enough." By now the rest of the crew had gathered around them. Corrie handed the glass she still held to Roy and tried to stand. Some hands were offered but she shook her head vehemently. After a minute she took a deep breath and glanced around at the concerned faces looking down at her. Her now softened gaze finally rested on Johnny. She pulled up her knees and reached up to him with both hands. He took them in his and in a moment she was standing beside him.

"I really am sorry." Some of her hair had come loose from the twist she wore and fallen into her eyes. He reached for it tentatively and, when she didn't pull away, gently tucked it behind her ear. The room was silent; neither of them noticed.

"_I'm_ sorry. It was an accident. I'm wet and –" A look of annoyance flashed across her face. She reached into her blouse and pulled out an ice cube. "– and cold and embarrassed."

"Hey, Cap?" Johnny called, though he did not look away from her.

"Go ahead," Stanley replied to the unasked question.

Johnny escorted Corrie to the locker room. He handed her a towel, then went to his locker and retrieved his shirt, which he also handed to her. "After you change, maybe join us for a little lunch?"

"Maybe."

Johnny paused at the door to look at her. Wisps of her hair continued to fall. She removed the pin and shook it out. Dark red tresses cascaded down her back and soft waves framed her face. It was a move that had always had the classic effect on Johnny, until now. As he watched she suddenly seemed very small and very young.

She began to remove her blouse. He cleared his throat and took a clumsy step backward. "I – um … I – I'll wait for you out there." He nearly fell as he backed out the door.

"Not a word," Captain Stanley interrupted Chet before he could take the shot. "Come eat, John."

Johnny inhaled deeply, reset his shoulders and clapped his hands together. "It sure smells good. What have we got?"

"Lasagna," Mike passed a plate and silverware as Johnny sat down.

"And garlic bread and antipasto," added Marco.

"There's cheesecake," Roy nodded toward a covered plate at the center of the table.

Chet handed Johnny a glass and with exaggerated care placed a large pitcher directly in front of him. "And fresh iced tea."

Johnny took a large bite. He closed his eyes as the rich flavors played over his tongue. "This is incredible," he took another equally large bite. "Who's on chow today?"

Smirks and snickers were the only response.

"What? What's so funny?"

Chet seized the moment. "You _really_ don't know?"

"Know what? What's the big deal, fellas? Who cooked?"

"He really doesn't know," Chet drew it out, enjoying Johnny's growing curiosity and annoyance. The squad had been making run after run, they'd missed roll call and chore assignments. The snickering among the rest of the crew continued. Even Cap couldn't prevent a smile from tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Your girlfriend," Chet announced gleefully.

Chet knew full well they'd met only the day before. Johnny's heart sank. He placed his fork deliberately on his plate and swallowed his mouthful of food in one gulp. A fireman buff. It explained the smiling without talking yesterday, as though she'd been star struck; now showing up with this feast … He really could have liked her.

At that moment Corrie returned to the kitchen. _A fireman buff might not be so bad_, Johnny thought. Her hair, which she'd left loose, lay like embers on a log against the wood-brown of his shirt. The shirt was buttoned part way then tied at the waist, accentuating, he noted appreciatively, her hourglass figure. The image of the little girl he'd seen in the locker room was forgotten.

"No department shirts available, Gage?" Cap noticed. Everyone laughed as Johnny's cheeks reddened.

"I'm going to get going," Corrie said. "Thanks for everything, boys."

"What's your hurry? Here," Chet took her ruined blouse from her hand and passed it to Marco, "we'll take care of that. Come sit down. You worked so hard on this meal; you should at least have some of it." He pulled out a chair next to Johnny with a grand gesture, grinning wickedly at him.

"Thank you, but I really just wanted to drop it off and talk to John for a minute if I could," she turned questioningly to him.

"Sure." He leapt to his feet. As they started toward the exit he noticed her slight limp. "Are you sure you're OK?"

"I'm fine," she insisted. He looked at her questioningly. "Old war injury," she joked.

"Just sit for a minute." He gently took her elbow and guided her to the chair Chet had pulled out for her.

"OK, but just a minute." Johnny knelt beside her and reached for the cuff of her pants to get a closer look at the injury. She grabbed his wrist. "Please don't. I'm fine, I promise."

"I won't hurt you." She held his wrist until he conceded with a shrug and retook the seat beside her. The rest of the crew was enjoying the meal in relative silence, watching the show. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

"I'm afraid I was pretty rude to you yesterday. I want to apologize."

Johnny chose his words carefully. It was a nice gesture, but if this girl was a fireman buff he didn't want to encourage her. "You were fine," he finally said, "and this is too much trouble for a simple apology."

She laughed. It was musical and warm and somehow assured him this was no buff. "It is a bit much," she agreed, "but I love to cook." He looked dubious. "Really. You did invite me for a meal, didn't you? I just beat you to the punch."

He bowed his head closer to her and said softly, "I had something a little more private in mind."

"Yeah, I know. I've heard a lot about you, John Gage." Johnny's smile wavered; he knew she was referring to the female staff of Rampart and he knew his reputation. So did the crew and the snickering resumed. "Someone I respect a whole lot said I should give you a chance anyway." The snickering subsided at that. "This way we get to talk a little, and I can make up my own mind."

"Don't say you weren't warned," Chet piped up.

"About you, too, Mr. Kelly," she retorted good-naturedly. Chet blushed as the room erupted in laughter. Johnny smiled broadly. _I could really like this girl!_

"Well," said Cap, "if this the way you apologize please feel free to be rude to any one of us at any time."

"Thank you," Corrie beamed. "It's really not that big a deal. Once I decided to make lunch I just made enough for the whole family."

"Family," Cap repeated softly. _Not crew or shift, but family. _He smiled.

A peace settled over them. "Hah!" Chet broke it. "Can't you just see little Chester B. running around the reservation, Brother Gage?" There were a few chuckles at this but the silence quickly returned, less comfortable this time.

"'We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;  
>'For he to-day that sheds his blood with me<br>'Shall be my brother,'" she looked directly at Chet, "'be he ne'er so vile,  
>'This day shall gentle his condition.'" She spoke softly but her voice filled the room. Six pairs of eyes were on her. "You're on the front lines every day. Just by coming to work you're prepared for battle. You may not have been born brothers, but – what's the expression, baptism by fire? What you guys do … Lord knows I couldn't do it."<p>

Chet seized the moment. "So you don't think women should be firefighters?" Chet was looking at Johnny, the rest of them saw what he was up to and the tension was broken.

"I didn't say that."

"Then you do think women should be firemen?" Johnny tried to grin but it looked more like a grimace.

"I didn't say that, either." She looked around at the confused faces and laughed. "I said _I_ couldn't do it; that doesn't mean no woman could."

Johnny's smile returned. This was a debate he'd learned to enjoy with the right women. "Well –" he began.

"Wait a minute, Gage," Chet interrupted. He stared intently at Corrie. "You really think we should let women fight fires?"

"No." Chet smiled. "You shouldn't just let them, no more than you should prevent them. Look, not just any man can do what you do, either, right? If a woman wants to do this for a living she should have to pass the same tests you guys passed, complete the same training, run the same drills. If she can't do that then no, that woman should not do this job, but if she can, then yeah, she'd deserve to be here. The only thing you – the department, anybody should _let_ women do is try. The rest is up to them."

Sound logic. A logical woman? Johnny opened his mouth to respond, but snapped it shut when no response came to mind. He tried again, with the same result. Chet, too, could find no argument.

Roy slapped Johnny's shoulder. "She's a keeper, Junior. Any girl who can leave you _and_ Chet speechless is definitely a keeper."

Another round of laughter filled the air as Corrie rose. "I really do have to go." Johnny jumped up. As they headed to the exit she said, "If you're still up for 'something a little more private,' I make a paella that'll knock your socks off."


	3. Act II

**ACT II  
>Scene One<strong>

"Good morning, good morning, good morning!" The heavy rain that had been falling for almost twenty hours did nothing to dampen Johnny's spirit. "Isn't it a _beautiful_ morning!"

"Looks like someone had a good weekend," Chet observed.

"The best, Chet, my man, the very best."

"Corrie," asked Roy with a grin.

"Man, that girl is incredible." Johnny leaned against his locker. It was not lost on the others that he was wearing his brown button-down shirt. They gathered around for the details of Johnny Gage's latest conquest. "She was right about that paella, it was incredible. Then Saturday night she made Canard à l'Orange."

"What's that," asked Chet.

"Orange duck," Marco told him.

"Not just 'orange duck.' It was the most …" he searched for the word, "exquisite thing I've ever tasted."

"'Exquisite,'" Chet guffawed, "really?"

"I don't know how else to describe it. It just melted in my mouth."

"Is that all that melted this weekend, Gage?"

Johnny turned on him; the sudden change in his demeanor caused them all to jump. "Not cool, Chet!"

"What's up? Usually we can't shut you up after a good date," Marco pointed out.

Johnny took a threatening step toward them. Roy laid his hand on Johnny's arm. "They didn't mean anything by it."

Chet stepped to him. "Johnny, Man, I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well … She's a nice girl, so just be cool, OK?"

Chet offered his hand. "OK." Johnny accepted after a moment and they laughed it off. "Come on, Marco." They headed to the kitchen for some coffee before roll call. Mike and Roy exchanged knowing glances before the engineer followed the others out of the locker room. Johnny was the only one not yet in uniform. Roy stayed with him as he changed.

"He's right, you know."

"About what?"

"You. You usually have plenty to say after a heavy weekend with a new girl." Johnny opened his mouth to protest, but Roy continued. "You never embarrass the young lady, but you do like to … share."

Johnny finally grinned and nodded. "I guess I do, don't I? But this girl –"

"Can really cook?" When he got no response Roy said, "We all know the way to the Gage heart, but it isn't her cooking, is it?"

"What do you mean?"

"You've know her five days. She's already made you three meals." Johnny held up his hand. Four. "I don't care if she's Julia Child, that's a lot of nesting in less than a week."

Still only half dressed, Johnny straddled the bench next to Roy. "You were right. Is that what you want to hear? I like her." Roy grabbed Johnny's uniform shirt from his locker and handed it to him pointedly. Johnny slipped it on. "This girl is something special, Roy. I can talk to her. She listens. And she gets it. I mean, she _really_ gets it."

"Gets what?"

"Us, me, this job. Remember what she said, that she couldn't do it? Sometimes, when we're talking, I think maybe she could. I don't know how else to put it, she just … gets it."

"You don't think maybe you're moving a little fast there, Partner?"

"Joanne gets it, right?"

Was Johnny actually comparing his fledgling romance to marriage? Roy smiled. "Yeah, yeah, for the most part."

"What do you mean?"

"She worries, every shift, but yeah, she knows how important the job is, and how important it is to me."

"No, Roy, this is more than that. I swear, it's like she knows how it feels to be out there. I never thought I'd find a woman my own age who got it, not really. The only other woman I've ever known who does is Dixie."

"Dixie's pretty special."

"No argument from me there. But Dix has been a nurse a long time, she's seen a lot."

Roll call.

"Move it, Junior." Johnny tapped his Smokey the Bear poster and followed Roy from the locker room, buttoning his shirt as he ran.

**Scene Two**

"I don't get it."

"Get what," Dixie asked over her coffee cup.

"John's reputation. He's wonderful."

Dixie smiled. "So you did see him this weekend?"

A smile spread across Corrie's face as the crimson rose in her cheeks. "Every day. I made my paella on Friday, then Saturday I cooked at his place, and yesterday –" Dixie was laughing. "What's funny?"

"Johnny's got you cooking for him. On a daily basis."

"He's a pleasure to cook for. He's up for anything and he enjoys everything."

"Are we still talking about food?" The blush deepened.

"He's been a perfect gentleman."

"We are talking about Johnny Gage?"

"You, too? That's what I don't get. I know he comes on like a tom-cat, but he's a teddy bear. I thought you wanted me to go out with him."

"I did. I do. I guess I just didn't expect you two to move so … fast."

Corrie sighed. "I get his professional reputation, and I can see why he uses it to pick up women. But it's not just a line, he really loves it. He's so passionate, it's no wonder he's so good. And he talks to me, Cappy. He really cares what I think. He's nothing like that guy I first met. Thank you so much, you were right." Dixie smiled weakly. "What, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong …"

"Cappy?"

"Just go slow, Loo."

There was a commotion from down the hall. Dr. Brackett had come from treatment room four, the patient inside was yelling. "Hey Dix," called the doctor, "get Drac up here for me." He ducked back inside.

"'Drac?'"

Dixie smiled. "Jack Isaacs," she explained. Jack "Drac" Isaacs ran the lab. It was said he'd never missed a stick, and he only went to the floors if all else had failed.

"Mind if I give it a try?"

"Be my guest," Dixie extended her hand toward the treatment room.

Like a perfectly timed magic trick, Kelly appeared in the hallway as soon as Corrie disappeared into the room. He was still a few yards away when he shouted, "I ask for a department head and you send me a nurse?"

"A very good nurse," Dixie replied softly.

"I have an uncooperative patient with lousy veins. Three 'very good' nurses with a lot more experience have already tried. So have Mike and I. You really think that little girl can do any better?"

As if in answer to his question the door to treatment room four opened, only silence spilling out this time. Corrie approached wearing a cheerful grin. "Well," Dr. Brackett demanded. She opened her hand to show him the filled tubes. He stared at them in disbelief. He mumbled something neither nurse could make out, then said, "Well, get that to the lab, stat!" before storming off to his office.

Once his office door had closed behind him, Dixie and Corrie burst out laughing.

**Scene Three**

Injured child, unknown injury. They hated injured child calls. Roy never failed to imagine his own children as the victims and then to imagine the worst. There were times Johnny could cajole him out of it, but not when the injury was unknown; there was nothing to say then, not yet anyway. They pulled up to the house and grabbed their gear. The door was open. "Back here," came a woman's voice. They followed it through the living room, down the hall to the master bedroom and into the bathroom.

The little girl was sitting in the tub, red water just up to her waist, wrapped in a towel. There was a bleeding laceration up her left leg from just above the ankle almost to the knee. She was sitting very still and was remarkably calm.

"Hey, Sweetheart," said Roy gently, "how're you doing?"

She smiled up at him. "Fine."

"What's your name?"

"Lena."

"Hi, Lena. I'm Roy. How old are you, Lena?"

"I'm seven," she said, still smiling brightly. "How old are you?"

"Can you tell me what happened?" He was kneeling by the tub, taking her pulse.

"I'm like Mommy," she stated proudly.

Roy swung his angry gaze to the mother. "It was an accident! I don't even know where she got it!"

"Got what," Johnny asked, putting himself between the woman and Roy. She looked into his eyes and saw no accusations, no anger, and stepped aside. On the vanity was a bloody razor blade. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly and asked, "What happened?"

"I'm not sure. I had just put her in the bath. I forgot a clean towel. I ran to the laundry room to get one. I heard her call me. She wasn't crying. She didn't sound hurt, just 'Mommy,' soft and easy, y'know?. I had no idea until I came in here and saw …" she finished with a wave toward the tub. "I was afraid to empty the tub or to move her, I just called you!"

"You did fine," Johnny reassured her.

"I shaved," announced the happy little girl, "just like Mommy!"

The vitals were within normal limits, the laceration, though long, wasn't terribly deep. By the time the ambulance arrived five minutes later Lena was bandaged, dressed in her favorite nightgown, wrapped in a clean bath sheet and chattering happily about riding with the sirens. Roy climbed into the back of the ambulance with her; Johnny convinced the mother to follow in her own car.

**Scene Four**

"This isn't what I asked for, Nurse," Dr. Brackett was bellowing as Johnny slipped into the treatment room.

"Dr. Brackett," Corrie tried.

"I asked for silk. This is nylon." He pushed the suture tray away from him; it crashed to the floor. "Or don't they teach you the difference in nursing school?"

Corrie held up the file in her hand. "Dr. Brackett, if you'll just –"

"If you can't follow simple instructions you can't be in my ER."

"Dr. Brackett, Sir!" she snapped, still holding up the file.

"Get out! Wait for me at the nurse's station." Corrie glared at him angrily. She tightened her grip on the file and left the room.

Johnny wanted to follow her, but Roy grabbed his attention and gave the slightest shake of his head. Roy was right, of course; this wasn't the time; he was here for Lena. _Lena has Brackett and Roy._ Johnny was about to duck out when Dixie stormed in, holding the same file Corrie had had. "Kel, stop!" She grabbed his hand before he could tear open a fresh suture kit.

He turned on her. "Dixie, what are you doing?"

She opened the file and handed it to him. "Read it." Before he could voice his objection, "Read!" She caught Johnny's eye. Her voice softened. "Go."

He spotted Corrie in front of the nurse's station. He watched her a moment. There was something odd in the rhythm of her pacing. She saw him on her third turn, stopped and waited for him. "What happened?"

"Doctors! Just because they have more education doesn't mean they're any smarter. Just because they have an education doesn't mean they're smart at all!"

"Corrie," John said more sharply than he'd intended.

"He trained you, didn't he?" Johnny nodded. "How? How did you do it? How do you work with him?"

"He's not so bad," he offered, "once you get to know him."

She smiled a humorless smile. "Maybe not to you. Is it women he doesn't like, or just nurses?"

"I don't think that's fair."

She turned her anger on him. "Not fair!? John, he's wrong! He's just _wrong_! He almost hurt that little girl. Because he wouldn't listen. If I had been a man he'd have listened. He'd have listened to you!"

Johnny grinned at that. He reached for her hand. "Dr. Brackett can be … difficult, but he would never hurt a patient."

"Not deliberately, I'm sure. But he almost did."

"Almost."

They suddenly realized Dixie had joined them.

"How is she," asked Johnny.

"She's fine," Dixie nodded back toward the treatment room. "How is _she_," indicating Corrie.

"Why won't he listen to me, Cappy? I'm a good nurse; you'd think he'd have seen that by now."

"I don't know, Loo." Dixie sighed. "I wish I did."

"At least he listened to you. Thank G-d."

"Hey Roy," Johnny brightened at his partner's approach. "What's going on?"

"Seventeen stitches," Roy reported. Before he could say more the door to the treatment room opened again. They all stood silently as Dr. Brackett headed toward them.

"Young lady," he began as soon as he was close enough to be heard without shouting.

"No, Sir."

"Excuse me?"

"Ms. Lester, Nurse Lester, someday maybe even Corrie, most definitely _NOT _'young lady.'"

"_Young lady,_ if you wish to continue working in this hospital that will be the last time you contradict a doctor in front of a patient or a patient's family, is that understood?"

"But –"

"_Is that clear!?_"

Johnny could see her burning. He didn't know just what was going on but he wanted to put his arms around her. Actually he wanted to pop Brackett in the mouth. It had been a long time since he'd felt that way toward the man.

"Crystal, Sir."

"That'll be all, then," he said dismissively and moved toward his office.

"No, Sir."

"Excuse me?" He turned back.

"Permission to speak freely, Sir?" Brackett nodded. "It wasn't about contradicting you. I knew something about the patient that you didn't. I tried to tell you quietly, I tried to show you. You wouldn't listen.

"I don't work for you, Sir. I work for the patients. Make no mistake, if one of my patients is at risk I will do everything in my power to help. If that means my job so be it."

_That's my girl!_ thought Johnny

"That can be arranged, young lady." Johnny took a step toward Bracket. Dixie grabbed his right forearm, Roy his left bicep. The doctor noticed none of it.

"Yes, Sir. But you'd better start listening to your nurses. You can run a hospital without doctors. You can't run a hospital without nurses."

"And which of your nursing school teachers told you that?"

"None, Sir. My father told me that."

"I'll bet your mother is a nurse."

Dixie grabbed Corrie's shoulders and turned her toward the lavatory. "Go cool off. Splash some water on your face and don't come out for a bit." As soon as the bathroom door had closed behind Corrie, Dixie grabbed Johnny's arm again and held tight. The twitching of his muscles made his arm feel like a live wire in her hand. She turned to Brackett. "You're wrong, Kel. Corrie Lester is one of the best nurses you've got and you know it. She saved that little girl a lot of trouble and –"

"You're right," Kelly said. His shoulders slumped and he rubbed his eyes. "She's the kind of nurse every patient deserves and every doctor should want."

"Then what –" Johnny sputtered.

"I don't know." He shrugged.

Although she felt him relax, Dixie did not release her hold on Johnny's arm. "You owe her an apology, Kel. Especially for that last crack. Or do you really not remember who her father is?"

"I remember." He looked at Dixie, then from Johnny to Roy and back to Dixie. "I remember," he muttered again as he headed to his office.

The three stood in silence for a moment. "What the hell happened in there," Johnny demanded, pulling his arm from Dixie's grasp.

"Lena Weiss," Dixie started, "that little girl is allergic to silk. It's a very rare allergy, and symptoms can take years to manifest. Kelly missed it."

"And Corrie caught it," Johnny finished, pride in his voice.

Dixie nodded, her smile was bittersweet.

"So who's her father," Roy asked, changing the subject before Johnny could say something about Dr. Brackett that everyone would regret.

"Hap Wolfe," Dixie told them.

"_Colonel_ Hap Wolfe," asked Roy. "Wasn't he your –"

"One and the same," Dixie confirmed.

"Who's Colonel Hap Wolfe," asked Johnny with growing interest.

Dixie moved behind the desk, inviting the guys to join her and clearing the corridor. "Lt. Colonel Wolfe was my CO in Korea," Dixie explained. There was a wistful look in her eyes. It was a long moment before she spoke again. "My first assignment after the war was back under his command, we were at the same hospital stateside. He'd been promoted to Colonel; pushed for my promotion so I could be head nurse.

"Once we were back here I got close to the whole family, to his daughter. Hap's a great doctor, he's also regular army, always referred to me by rank. Almost always," she whispered. "When we met, Corrie couldn't even say 'Captain.'"

"'Cappy,'" John mumbled, understanding dawning.

Dixie smiled. "And she was my Little Lieutenant."

"'Loo,'" he smiled. "Wait a minute, Wolfe? Her name is Lester."

"Maybe she's married," quipped Roy.

Dixie smiled at that just a moment too late. Johnny turned confused eyes to her. "Dix?"

"Hi," Corrie had come up behind Johnny and tried to put an arm around his waist. He jumped as though her arm were fire. "John, what's wrong?"

"Are you married?"

"What?" She looked at Dixie, who could only shrug an apology.

"Are. You. Married?"

"Not exactly."

"Then you're divorced."

"No, not divorced."

"Then how are you 'not exactly' married? You're either married or you're not." There was a hardness in his voice none of them had ever heard before.

"You don't understand."

"You're right, I don't." He stormed off toward the exit. She ran after him, Dixie and Roy followed close behind.

"John, please. Johnny!" Corrie caught up with him by the waiting area, which was, thankfully, empty. She was still running when she reached for his hand. He jerked it away and spun to face her in one swift move. The momentum pulled her forward and she fell face down at his feet.

Johnny stood there, glaring down at her. She was struggling to get up; he didn't move. It was a terrible tableau. Dixie and Roy were frozen for just a moment by the same horrible realization. Johnny Gage, who would walk through fire to help a stranger, wouldn't bend to help the girl he cared for off the floor. Roy moved first. He went to Corrie's side. For just a few seconds that seemed an eternity Dixie was transfixed by the look on Johnny's face. This ugly man standing before her now was a stranger. Finally, Dixie moved.

"Johnny," she ground out, "lounge. Now!" Johnny turned his glare to her. Her eyes met his. Behind the anger, behind the betrayal, she saw his heart breaking. He looked down at Corrie, now sitting on the floor, legs straight out in front of her, leaning on Roy for support. He looked to the exit doors, so close … then, slowly, so slowly, he turned and walked back to the doctors' lounge.


	4. Act III

**ACT III**

**Scene One**

The clouds dissipating under the strength of the brightening sun were regathering in the Rampart General Hospital ER staff lounge. The young fireman inside was a lone buoy, battered by the storm. He sat down at the table, then jumped up and crossed to the window. He looked out briefly, then went to the coffee maker and removed a cup from the shelf. He stared at it a moment, slammed it onto the counter, and went to sit on the couch. He finally appeared peaceful, except for the rhythmic bounce of his right knee. Even the appearance of peace was short-lived; he jumped to his feet and lunged for the door. He yanked it open only to find his way blocked.

"Get out of my way, Dix." She didn't move. "Dix."

She stepped into the room. He retreated a step. "Sit down, John."

"I prefer to stand, thank you." He eyed the hall behind her longingly.

She closed the door and leaned against it. "Suit yourself."

They stood for endless minutes, staring at each other. Finally, Johnny started pacing. "Married," he said softly. He turned on her. "Why would you set me up with a married woman?"

"Set you up?" she kept her voice steady, calm.

"That first day she came to me, she said someone she respected told her to give me a shot. That was you, wasn't it," he accused.

"You know it was."

"You could've told me."

"It's not what you think, Johnny, and it's not for me to tell."

"Maybe not, but while you were telling her to go out with me you could have told her to be honest with me."

"What was she dishonest about?"

"What was she – Are you kidding me? 'What was she dishonest about?' I don't believe you!"

"It's not as simple as you think. She tried to tell you that." He stopped his pacing to glare at her. "You were pretty angry when Dr. Brackett wouldn't listen to her. You're no better."

"I … I'm …" he swallowed hard. "It's not the same."

"No, it's not the same. You're worse." Johnny's mouth worked but he couldn't form the words. He resumed his pacing. "I thought you cared about her. Kel thought he was looking out for his patient. Who are you looking out for, Johnny?"

He felt as if he'd been punched in the gut. "She should've told me."

"She will, if you give her the chance."

"She had plenty of chances. We've been together every day."

Dixie took a step toward him. "For three days. I understand it was special, but it was only three days."

"That's just it. All we did was talk."

"Did you tell her all about your past? What about your fiancées? There were two, weren't there?"

"Wait a minute now, one wasn't even –"

"I know that. The point is: have you told her?"

"Not yet."

"Why not?"

"It hasn't come up yet."

"But you talked for three days. You had plenty of chances to bring it up."

"That's not fair," he cried plaintively.

"Aww. Cry me a river," she sniped. "'Not fair.' Are you being fair? Not everyone falls in and out of love in three days." She had cut him to the quick and she knew it.

He sank into a chair. Was he really so fickle? His love life was something of a joke – with the women here at the hospital and the guys back at the station. Why not? There'd been so many women. His longest relationships were the longest chases, the actual relationships were like great fires, they'd burned very bright and very hot then burned out very fast. He'd thought about marriage, even gotten himself engaged once … or twice. _Ha ha._ Truth be told, he did fall in love easily and often … or so even he had thought. But was it love? He loved women, there was no denying that; did he really want to settle for just one? Did he even believe there was one special woman out there just for him? _Cap found one. And Mike. So did Roy, and Joanne is incredible._

Johnny understood enough about marriage – OK, enough about Roy – to know that Joanne's support was integral to the relationship he and Roy had built outside the job. Their socializing wasn't limited to fire department events and a few hours here and there between shifts. There was that, there was also fishing and camping, with the other guys or just the two of them, sometimes leaving immediately after shift. Even on those occasions, when Roy and his family were apart for days at a time, Joanne supported, even encouraged the friendship. She seemed to understand that Roy's life had to be more than just work and family. How many women understood and accepted that? Especially women whose men worked 24 hour shifts in a job at which every good-bye could be good-bye forever. Could he really find his own Joanne?

The DeSotos had welcomed him into their family and it was good. Life was good. The family stuff was nice; thanks to Roy he had that right here in L.A. He had a job he loved and did well. He had Roy and the rest of the guys, and he had women. When it didn't work out there was always another woman. There were times, though, it would have been nice to have someone special with whom to share things. He and Roy suffered the losses together and there was always a girl to impress with stories of the big wins. The little victories left him lonely. The hugs from kids that were more afraid of their parents' punishment than whatever danger they'd gotten themselves into, the extra firm handshakes from men who didn't want to admit they'd needed help in the first place, the relieved laughter of patients whose illness or injury turned out to be so much less than they'd feared. It was those little moments, the happy, human moments, that kept him grounded. It was those moments he longed to share. He had no idea how to talk about that stuff, especially with women. He'd tried, they'd all looked at him like he was a lost puppy. _Ucch._ That was not how he wanted women to see him. It was one thing to play on the nurses' sympathy when he'd actually been ill or injured but even that was with one eye on recovery, on regaining his strength, on standing on his own two feet and being the man. On occasion he'd even spoken to Joanne, but, for all the affection between them, Joanne was already another man's wife, his best friend's wife. Somehow he'd found himself willing to try again this past weekend and, well, it was like he'd tried to tell Roy that morning. _Was it only this morning?_ She understood. The highs and lows of the little battles as well as the big ones, the exhilaration of the fight, fear and dread and the difference between the two, seeing comrades fall and being injured himself, the knowledge that every fire – every fight could be the last for any one of them and the need to fight on. She understood all of it and then some. He found himself wanting to open up to her, which left him feeling vulnerable and exposed, and that scared him more than any fire. He sighed. He'd run in full speed ahead like he always did and he'd been burned.

"She lights up around you, Johnny," Dixie's voice interrupted his reverie. "She's been happier this past week than I've seen her in a very long time." Her tone softened. "I've seen the way you look at her, too. I don't know if what you have will last, but if it stands any chance at all, you have to do it together."

"How could she not tell me?"

"Yet."

The door opened to reveal Corrie leaning heavily on Roy. Johnny stood slowly. Roy all but carried Corrie to a chair at the table. A heavy silence filled the room; everyone waited with bated breath for someone to break it. Finally someone did.

"I'm sorry, John." Corrie's voice was barely a whisper. If Johnny had been able to look at her he'd have seen the tears she was determined would not fall. "Can we talk?" Silence. "Please?" He nodded.

"Are you OK," Roy asked. Johnny wasn't sure if the question was meant for Corrie or himself. Must've been her because he then heard Roy say, "OK. I'll be right outside, then. Johnny?" Another nod. When he turned around he found Dixie and Roy had left them alone.

He stole a glance at her. She looked … she looked like he felt: raw, vulnerable, miserable. He wanted to beg her to forgive him, to take her in his arms and protect her from what had done that to her. He wanted to get as far as he could from the woman who had done it to him. His stomach rolled.

He turned to the window, arms crossed. He was chilled despite the sunshine pouring over him. He stared out into the parking lot, not seeing it. "Well?"

"Well." She spoke slowly, deliberately, emotionlessly. "Frank Lester. An intern in the hospital where I trained. He was … he was a lot like you, actually. Good looking, smart, funny…." She smiled sadly at the memory. "All the girls in my class wanted him, and he picked me.

"We should've ended when I graduated, I was going – … He had his residency to focus on. I don't think he would've proposed if there hadn't been a war on, but there was and I … I was crazy about him so," she sighed, "we got married."

Of course. Johnny turned, his arms dropped limply to his sides. The war. Not exactly married, not divorced. Most people wouldn't think of someone so young as widowed, even with the war having ended barely two years ago, but he should have. In his line of work, he'd already seen too many young widows. "KIA," was all he could say.

"No." Now that he was looking at her she had to work harder to maintain control. "A junkie trying to rip off the hospital pharmacy."

"But you said … the war …?"

She laughed bitterly. "You've got to love the irony. I'm in a war zone on the other side of the world and my husband dies of a gunshot wound right here at home."

Johnny fell heavily into the chair beside her. She took his left hand, held it palm up and traced the lines with her thumbs. "I should have told you, but I – " She sucked in her breath and let it out slowly. "There's more."

_What more could there possibly be?_

She kept her eyes on his hand. "The hospital where I was stationed … the fighting … shifted. The hospital was …" She placed his hand on her right knee. She held it there for just a moment, then, as she finally looked up at his face, guided his hand down.

His eyes widened at what he felt. She was watching him intently now, her lower lip held firmly in her teeth. He knelt beside her and slowly reached for her pant cuff. She moved, as if to take back his hand, but stopped herself and held her breath.

"How?"

"I don't know." He finally looked in her eyes and the dam burst. "I know what they told me, but I don't really know. I just remember … noise … screaming. Everything screaming. The shelling, the fire … and the people … the staff – my friends … and my patients…" The words poured out now, faster and faster. "They couldn't move. They couldn't run, they couldn't fight, and they wanted to, the men wanted to fight. Hell, I wanted to fight! And the civilians … Oh, G-d, John, the children! I tried to help them, I really did, but I couldn't get to them, I … I couldn't save them!" She buried her face in her hands and wept. "I couldn't save them."

Johnny tenderly placed his right hand on her cheek and took both her hands in his left. He was struck by how small she was as she buried her face in his one hand while her both her hands disappeared into his other. He gently lowered her hands and pulled her to him. She followed his lead and was soon weeping into his shoulder.

_My friends … my patients … They couldn't move … I wanted to fight … Oh, G-d, John, the children! I tried to help them … I couldn't save them!_ Her words rang in his ears. The images flooded in, unbidden. His patients. He reached for the positive outcomes, for just one, but all he could see were the losses. The children, they'd lost children, and now all those children were there before him, dying again. His friends. Drew. Firefighters from other stations. Duntley. From 10's while he'd been there. From 51s. Dick. Station 51's A shift hadn't lost a man (_yet_), but there'd been injuries. Suddenly he seemed to be reliving them all, he could see them, falling, choking, trapped, burning, as they had at various times, but now he saw no one getting up. Then there were his own injuries. How many times had he broken his leg? _Broken, but still here._

Her breath hitched as she worked to regain her composure. Her breathing slowed, her head rested heavily on his shoulder. "I woke up … in a hospital in Washington … three months after the attack." He pushed her back gently and held her shoulders to look into her eyes. "There was no coma, nothing like that, I just … lost three months. I was … I was running for the children and the next thing I can remember I was stateside. No memory, no husband, no leg.

"When I found out … once I understood wh … I – I called my in-laws." She choked back fresh tears. "They hate me. Called me selfish for … said I cared more about my career than their son."

"I am so sorry," he whispered.

"For what?"

_For doubting you. For not trusting you. For forcing you to relive this._ "I'm just sorry."

"You couldn't have known. I just … I didn't know how to tell it. I don't know if I'm … I'm still not sure how to tell it."

"You're fine."

She smiled wanly. "OK. Well, after that I couldn't come home. I couldn't … so I stayed back east. It took a long time and hard work, but I finally learned how to walk again, even lost the limp … mostly. I tried to make friends, went a few dates … I finally got back to work, back to nursing. That's what I needed, that's all I needed. I got a quiet, little apartment; I had a nice, safe little life. I didn't think I was lonely but Dixie … she made me see that 'safe' isn't much of a life. My family was here, my friends … and, good or bad, Frank was here. I came home. I didn't know I was going to stay, but I had to take my life back. I was in a fog for so long … I'm not really sure I realized just how thick it was until last week."

"Last week?"

"Yeah. I met a guy. A great guy. Smart, fun, brilliant smile that cut right through all that fog …" He blushed, unsure how to respond. She traced his cheek with a finger. "I like you, John Gage; so much. I could even love you …" He smiled. Then he saw that she didn't.

"What's wrong with that?"

"I don't want to. I don't want to love you. Loving you scares the hell out of me, John!"

_You and me both, Kid_, he thought ruefully.

There were two quick taps at the door before Roy stuck his head in. He pointed at Johnny with the handie-talkie. "We gotta go."

John gave her hands a gentle squeeze, then was up and at the door in two strides. He turned to see she was now sitting up straight, shoulders back, eyes almost dry. She looked up at him and tried to smile. She looked like such a child, and the strongest woman he had ever seen. He returned her smile and was gone.

**Scene Two**

The alternately heavy rains and high temperatures of the past week were taking their toll. New pot holes, mud and weakened earth had led to a number of accidents that would keep many squads running for a good portion of the day. There'd been three in quick succession for 51. Fortunately all three resulted in very minor injuries … no follow-ups at the hospital, no need to restock yet.

There had been no banter, no conversation outside that needed for the runs, since they'd left the hospital. The ride back to the station began the same way.

"I'm never getting married." How many times had Johnny said that? This time was different. This time it didn't sound like he'd made a decision, more like he'd come to a realization. "I'm too selfish to be married," he added simply.

"No," Roy countered a bit too quickly. Johnny could be self-centered. He craved attention. He enjoyed showing off and was quick to brag about his exploits, at least to pretty girls. He also shied away from the spotlight he often deserved and usually answered a victim's heartfelt thanks with only a sincere "You're welcome," and an awe, shucks smile. He was, in his own inimitable fashion, quite generous, _especially with other people's money_. Roy smiled, remembering the numerous meal tabs with which he'd been stuck; deals Johnny had struck with other stations on behalf of 51s without talking to his crew-mates first; the Trundle Bunny Baby Layette that Johnny had presented to the poor parents of a baby girl he had delivered in the back seat of their car, purchased with green stamps Chet had saved up to get the station a barbeque, and, again, without talking to the guys. Despite his machinations, Johnny's integrity was beyond reproach. Though he could whine with the best of them, in the end never failed to honor his word. Besides, self-centered and selfish are not the same thing. "No," Roy stated definitively.

"When you helped her up, you saw … ?" Roy nodded. "Did she tell you – "

"Dixie. She asked Dixie to. They thought I – "

"Yeah. Probably right."

"Dix usually is." They exchanged quick grins. Good ol' Dixie. The pleasant moment passed too quickly.

"When Corrie was telling me … what happened … I could see it, like it was happening to me. I couldn't help it. How do I do that? How did I make it about me?" Roy was smiling. "What?"

"That's not selfish, Junior. That's empathy."

"Y'think?"

Roy nodded. "Put yourself in her shoes, right?"

Johnny thought about it. "OK." He smiled. "OK." He settled. Roy glanced over at him. As expected, the peace was short-lived. "It isn't right," said Johnny.

"What isn't?"

"How many guys have we seen, messed up by that war? Women don't belong in the middle of a war!"

"Well," Roy began slowly.

"You disagree? You served, you really think women belonged there?"

Roy thought long and hard. "I don't know. What Corrie said about fighting fires, maybe that applies to fighting a war, too. I can't imagine any woman wanting to fight a war, but … What are we talking about? She wasn't there to fight, she's a nurse. Dixie did it in Korea, so did Beauxchet."

"Nurse Beauxchet," Johnny grimaced, "could defeat the enemy single handed." They could both picture the bright orange hair, heavily made-up face and huge bosom in full combat gear. They laughed. In a blink Johnny was serious again. "This war was different. You know that better than I do, and it was already on when she joined up. Why would she do that? Why couldn't she just wait until it was over if she wanted to sign up?"

"Her father's Army, maybe that had something to do with it. Or maybe …"

"What," Johnny prodded, "'or maybe' what?"

Roy pulled over and parked, then turned his full attention to Johnny. "Do you think she's a good nurse?"

"What kind of question is that? You've seen her, she's great!"

"Maybe she wanted to go where she felt she could do the most good. You should understand that."

"I do. I do. Maybe, maybe that's it. Probably. It's still not right." Roy pulled back into traffic. They traveled a few miles in silence. "Her hospital was bombed. How do you bomb a hospital? Hospitals should be safe."

"You said it yourself. It was war. No place was safe."

"Who bombs a hospital? With civilians! Roy, she said there were children. It's just not right. Not right."

"No, there's nothing right about any of it." Roy shuddered, suddenly all too aware of what the next war could hold for his daughter as well as his son.

"Hey Roy," Johnny's voice interrupted, "I was a real a—"

"Yeah; yeah, you were. But I think it's OK. I think maybe what happened today was good." A sidelong glance revealed a look of disbelief in response. "Think about it. What do you usually do?"

"I don't usually get into situations like that."

"No," Roy chuckled. "Not like that. But when it's not working out with a girl, what do you usually do?"

"Nothing."

"Exactly." Johnny shook his head in confusion. "What's the worst thing you can think of that a woman did to you?"

Johnny had to think for a minute. All the brush offs, all the ways he'd been dumped, all the reasons that had led to his dumping a girl. "Valerie, hiding her kids from me. We were engaged for cryin' out loud!"

"What did you do about it?"

"What do you mean, 'do?' I didn't – oh, well, I stopped calling her."

"Right. She did lie to you and you couldn't even dump her, you were too afraid of hurting her feelings."

"I sure wasn't afraid to hurt Corrie's feelings, was I," he asked rhetorically. "I just jumped to conclusions."

"You do tend to leap before you look."

"Yeah. Still … The thought that she lied to me about … I never …" He didn't want to say it. "Man, It hurt. I mean, I've been let down by chicks before, but that hurt."

"So you hurt her back."

"And you think that's good?"

"No, of course not. But you didn't run away. I'm not saying what you did today was good, but you didn't just disappear on her. You confronted her. Badly, but you did it. That's good."

"I hurt her, Roy."

"Yeah, you did. And she didn't run away either. That's good, too. If you want this thing with her to work out, you have to work it out with her. You did that today."

They rode in companionable silence for a while as Johnny considered. "Hey, Roy?" He didn't wait for a response. "Do you actually like this, talking about feelings and stuff?"

"Not with you," Roy answered with a small smile. "Sometimes, though, it sure is nice with Joanne."


End file.
